You stare across the room at a slender man with piercing eyes and dangerously defined cheekbones. If you weren't already nervous for this audition, you definitely are now! You try to take your eyes off of him to focus on your monologue; just a few more run-throughs in your head and you just know you'll have it down. Reading through it, you zone out for a minute, You may fancy a glimpse of the abyss where I grovelled! Shake your head as you will, Nelly, you have helped to unsettle me! You had always been a fan of Wurthering Heights, so it was undeniable that you would have chosen this monologue.

Because of the small number of actors there for the audition, the director decides that everyone will be in the room for all the monologues. You are shaking, but everyone else in the room seems to be a bit more nervous than they were just a few minutes ago as well, so you find yourself calming down a bit. You glace over to the other side of the room, back to the man with the cheekbones, and soon, you find yourself day dreaming a bit about his deep blue eyes, curly auburn hair, and pink lips. In fact, you fall so deep into your day dream that you fail to remember that you are staring right at this guy, who is now staring right back at you with an amused look on his face. Your cheeks and ears immediately flush a bright pink, and you look down, embarrassed, at your crinkled up monologue.

"Benedict Cumberbatch." You stifle a giggle. What kind of a name is that? You glance up to see Mr. Cheekbones walking up to the front of the room, and the second he opens he mouth to speak you are transfixed... again. His voice almost sounds like the purr of an old sports car as he went into his monologue; which was also from Wurthering Heights. You closed your eyes and let his voice drift you back to the late nights hiding with a flashlight under your blanket in bed, just trying to finish one more chapter. You can remember the low hum of the fan in your room, and the distant noises of city life outside of your window as you got lost in the lives Emily Bronte had created. The escape from the world around you and the plunge into the fictional life in your hands was enough to keep you reading forever.

Benedict finished with a slight smile, then went back to sit down next to the rest of the men. You caught his eye again, so you mouthed a "good job," then watched as the next actor was called up. A few more monologues went by, and now it was your turn. You stood up, straightened your skirt, and glided to the front of the room. You introduced yourself, the role you were auditioning for, then dived right in. How long is it since I shut myself in here? It seems a weary number of hours ... it must be more. You grew more and more into character with every word. I pondered, and worried myself to discover what it could be, and, most strangely, the whole last seven years of my life grew a blank! I did not recall that they had been at all. You caught Benedict's eye. He looked so engulfed in your monologue, that your eyes focused in on him, and you delivered the rest of the monologue solely to him. I cannot say why I felt so wildly wretched: it must have been temporary derangement; for there is scarcely cause. But, supposing at twelve years old I had been wrenched from the Heights, and every early association, and my all in all, as Heathcliff was at that time, and been converted at a stroke into Mrs. Linton, the lady of Thrushcross Grange, and the wife of a stranger: an exile, and outcast, thenceforth, from what had been my world. With the last few words, you smiled, brought your eyes back to the expressionless faces of the director and others on the board, and quickly moved to sit back down.

After all of the actors had completed their auditions, the director stood up, gave some speech about the good jobs everyone had done, and dismissed you. As you collected your belongings, you heard a voice come up behind you. "Wurthering Heights, excellent choice!" That voice. You turn around to see two soft, pink lips formed into a genuine smile speaking at you. "You must really enjoy that story. I don't think I have ever known anyone to become so engulfed in a character before, at least, not during audition." What was he saying? His mouth was moving but you couldn't focus on a single word coming out of his mouth. A couple of seconds go by, and you finally realize his lips have stopped moving, and the smile is fading from his perfect lips.

"Um, yeah. Thanks," you have no idea what you're supposed to be replying to. "Your audition was brilliant! It felt like it was a real life Heathcliff standing in front of everyone, it was really, um, quite wonderful." Embarrassed, you turn to leave, but trip over your own feet. Perfect. Just perfect. To your surprise Benedict catches you, and steadies you on your feet again.

"Careful now!" He chuckled, and what a sound it was! You were immediately convinced he could read the dictionary to you, and you could be fully entertained the entire time. "Here," he offered his arm. "Let me help." He wrapped his arm around yours and walked you out the door and to the parking lot.

"I think I can manage from here, thanks," you were sure your face had never been this shade of red before. It couldn't be healthy.

"Anytime," there was that smile again. "Hey, I was wondering if you had any other plans for today? It's just that a few friends of mine, and I, are meeting up for coffee downtown to talk about the audition, and I would love it if you could come! I know they would all be very impressed with you," you couldn't believe it; he actually sounded genuine!

"Are you sure I wouldn't be intruding, or something?" Intruding? You really had a way a way with words today...

"Of course not! It's just casual," he flashed that smile again. "Plus, I would really love for them to meet the woman who has almost as much skill as me." He winked. Oh my good golly gosh, he winked. You were sure that your heart just stopped beating. How could you say no to a wink? His wink?

"I guess I could stop by for a bit," you had never been more grateful for your acting abilities. Hopefully, he wouldn't be able to see through the facade of sanity you were putting on.

"Wonderful! So why this play?" You and Benedict caught a taxi, and spent the entire ride discussing different plays, musicals, movies, and books you enjoy. All too soon, you arrived at this shabby little cafe in downtown London. He gets out first and gets your door for you before you have a chance to object, and you walk in.

The inside of the cafe is warm and homey. There isn't many customers, but you see a group of about four people sitting in the corner in the back. "Coffee?" Benedict asks.

"Sure, yeah. Two sugars for me, thanks." You glance around at little wodden chairs and tables gathered in clusters around the cafe on the worn red carpet. Your gaze scales up the walls to see peeling beige wallpaper with a faint pattern on it, that may have once been a sort of paisley. It was warm, and cozy, even if it was visibly worn; in fact, it was almost comfortable.

"Two sugars, for the lady," that smile was going to kill you. "Now, what are we standing around for? Time to go meet the group!" He waved at the group in the back, who stood up to come meet us as we walked over to them. He quickly introduced you to all of them as the girl who has enough talent to become whosoever she wants to be. In the group was his friends Tom, Martin, Amanda, Olivia, and David. They were all extremely nice, and after a few hours of stories and jokes, they invited you to come around with them whenever.

The next week, when you recieved your final call back, you were relieved to see Benedict did as well. You two continued to work on the play together as good friends and colleagues, and spent most of your time outside of rehearsal together; rehearsing lines and goofing off-with, or without, the group.